


The Faulkner Imbalance

by carriecmoney



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriecmoney/pseuds/carriecmoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had always been stable, dependable, the rock in each other's lives, but one day something shifted and kicked their balance off its pedestal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Faulkner Imbalance

It was midnight on a Tuesday at the chemistry lab, and Arthur was only halfway through this week’s homework when his phone buzzed on the tabletop. The other two people in the lab - his partner Gil and their friend Victoria - looked up and blinked as they were shaken from their formulaic trance.

“Wha’? Who?” Gil muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his gloved hand as Arthur unlocked his phone screen to check the text message.

“Calm down, it’s just Al.” He tapped out a reply quickly, then shoved his phone in his pocket and went to wash any chemical residue from his hands and forearms. Gil and Victoria exchanged a weary, knowing glance.

“Bringing you food again, huh?” Victoria asked. Arthur nodded from the sink, too tired to be snappy. “Dude, you’ve got him trained better than I’ve got Jake, and Al’s not even _dating_ you.”

“So you’ve said before.” Arthur dried his hands and took off his goggles and lab coat, hanging them off the row of pegs but the door as he yawned hugely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have refueling to do.” He slid out of the lab, leaving the two of them to gossip and maybe do their share of the work as he went down to the door of the building, where his roommate of two years and counting was waiting with Chinese.

He let Al in with a weary grin, and they claimed their usual broad windowsill as Al chatted on about his close encounter with the delivery guy. Arthur leaned back against the window and ate his chicken fried rice with the gusto of someone who hadn’t eaten in ten hours, content to listen and relax and follow the lamplight from outside as it danced over Al’s features.

“So, how’s the lab stuff going?” Al asked eventually, mouth full of broccoli. Arthur shrugged.

“It’s going. We’ve isolated the sample and it’s soaking, but the numbers we’re getting back from the acid solution don’t match up with what we should be getting...” Al nodded along, eating and watching his eyes light up. Arthur trailed off with a smile. “How much of that did you actually get?”

“‘Bou’ haf,” he admitted through his food. He swallowed. “But, still, sounds fun.” He took a sip from his bottled Coke before handing it over to Arthur, who washed the rice-dryness from his mouth with it. “So when do you think you’ll be home?”

“At least a couple of hours.” He twisted the cap back on with his palm and set the Coke between them. “You don’t have to wait up on me.”

Al laughed. “You know me, I’ll be up until five anyway.” Arthur smiled, digging through his rice with his fork for a piece of chicken.

“Thanks for all this, by the way.” Al scoffed and waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It gets me out of the house for a while, so I don’t mind.” Arthur barked out a laugh around the clump of chicken, spraying a little, and Al grinned in response. They fell silent for a moment, eating like growing boys at midnight. Al glanced up at Arthur by chance, then double took.

“Hey, you got a lil’ something...” He gestured to the corner of his mouth. Arthur rubbed at his mouth - the wrong side. Al rolled his eyes and reached out to brush it away with his thumb, sticking it in his mouth reflexively.

Then they froze, eyes wide, Arthur’s mouth fallen open and Al biting his thumb _hard_.

Arthur stood up too quickly, closing the lid on his food and fumbling over his fork. “I-I should be going back to the lab now.” He avoided Al’s eyes as he handed his half-full box over.

“Yeah, I should - go, too.” He swallowed, shoved the food back into the plastic bag. “I’ll put this in the fridge.

“Good. Great.” Arthur cleared his throat, looked up, looked away. “I’ll see you, then.”  
“Yeah.” They shuffled apart, carefully avoiding any kind of contact until Al was out the door and at his locked bike and Arthur was around the hall corner,, out of sight from the outside world when he leaned against the wall and rubbed at his temples. Outside, Al leaned on the frame of his bike and stared into space, wide-eyed and a funny taste in his mouth.

What was _that?_

* * *

The next two weeks passed strangely for them. Every normal interaction they were used to became increasingly charged with something secret and unknown, and it scared them away from each other and any possible sightings that were unnecessary to living in the same room. Arthur almost resided in the lab, drawing out his work as long as possible, but even when he ran out of things to do he lingered, bothering his classmates until they kicked him out to get him _away_. Al hid around campus, taking his Kindle on the run and migrating from tree to bench to library, the soft fall colors and cool wind keeping him company far past the hours when it was reasonable to stay outside as he read articles and essays to try and distract him from this weird development in what had been the steadiest, most dependable relationship of his life outside of his immediate family.

It didn’t work, naturally, and he spent more of his tree time staring at the changing leaves and wondering what switch had flipped inside him, inside Arthur. He didn’t have an answer, so he grew sullen and irritable, figuratively biting at anyone who tried to ask what was wrong, and none more than the other four guys that shared the off campus house with him and Arthur - even the two house cats, Al and Arthur’s personal pets. Even with as little time as they were spending at home, they could smell something odd in the air. Eventually they were going to have to do something about it, because if there was one thing they knew about Al and Arthur, it was that they were too stubborn to change themselves.

So they had a house party.

While their house parties were never the red Solo cup, drunk girls in bikini tops that Hollywood adored, there was alcohol circulated throughout the building, and too loud laughter and music pounded out normal conversation into screaming into ears in corners.

Somehow, through subconscious efforts and the subtle directions of their friends and coinhabitants, they ended up in one of those corners together - specifically, the one with the back of a couch on one side and a front window on the other, sitting on the floor near the game of Tipsy Twister as they argued about books over half a bottle of rum. They’d started out sitting a careful distance from each other, Arthur supported by the couch and Al by the wall, but as the noise level and their blood alcohol content grew, they slid closer and closer until their knees were touching, getting into each other’s space as their arguments fell apart into personal insults.

“I don’t get you, Faulkner was a _genius!_ ” Al yelled, his wild gestures nearly slapping Arthur in his perpetually-furrowed face. Arthur scowled and leaned back against the sofa back, crossing his arms resolutely.

“He’s a hick who smoked too much and played at bein’ ‘deep’ to entertain you backcountry boys and make you feel smart!” Al gasped in scandal, rearing back before leaning forward, uncrossing his legs so he could sprawl almost in Arthur’s lap, hands holding him up on either side of Arthur’s folded legs. Through his rum haze, Arthur could feel that something was weird about this, but he painted it off as the cramped body heat of the party.

“You take that back.”

Arthur grinned, pushing at his chest with the tips of his fingers, but Al didn’t move away and the fingers didn’t leave. “Make me.” Al puffed up, and Arthur’s grin grew. “Just like I thought.” His hand moved down slightly, fingertips to full fingers. The smiled faded, and suddenly there were in their own bubble in the chaotic crowd. Their breathing seemed too heavy, too hot. They couldn’t look away.

Al moved first, sliding his hands forward on the stained carpet to get closer, stomach brushing Arthur’s crossed calves and hair hanging over his forehead. Arthur’s fingers clenched in his shirt, his other one floating up to take its grip lower, below his breastbone. He tugged, and they missed at first, bumping cheeks and noses, but Al moved sideways and eased his mouth over Arthur’s.

Arthur sighed, melted back into the sofa back while pulling Al closer, tilting his head sideways to open more to him while gliding his hands away from their death grip on his shirt to hold him closer, ever closer, blunt nails digging in as he relaxed his legs apart. Al brought one hand up to weave his fingers in his hair, angling him right to get his tongue in the farthest, tracing the sensitive ridges on his palate. Arthur hummed, finally getting his legs out of Al’s way so he could lay fully between them. They were sliding slowly horizontal, pressure and gravity aiding them as their open-mouthed kiss grew sloppy and disorganized.

“Yeah! Get it, Al!”

They broke apart like a lightning strike, Arthur pushing him away while Al scrambled back, knocking over the mostly-empty rum bottle on his way. Those close by who cared laughed riotously, none more than Gil, who had catcalled in the first place. Now he was grinning excitedly at them from the front of the sofa, leaning over it in glee. Al yelled at him to fuck off, face red and mouth wet. Arthur wiped at his mouth with his shirt sleeve and stood up, shoving his way through the scattered partygoers, both those watching and beyond the sphere of interest. Al got to his feet and started after him, then sighed and fell back against the sofa, sitting on top of the back and running his hand through his hair, tousling it further. The texture shocked him, and his heart shuddered as it hit him why.

 _Oh_.

Gil took a knee-step sideways on the sofa cushions as those few curious went back to their loud talking with a new source of gossip. He sighed overdramatically and patted his shoulder. Al shrugged him off, but Gil just leaned bodily against him instead.

“You were too good for him, anyway.” This time Al shoved him away violently, making him lose his balance and fall back on the sofa with a lot of cursing involved.

“Go fuck yourself, man.” Gil scowled up at him, but his eyes widened at the uncharacteristically dark look on Al’s face.

“Dude, are you-”

But Al stormed off in the opposite direction that Arthur had taken before he could finish, leaving him to far too serious thoughts when he wasn’t sober, several fed up friends to answer to, and an empty rum bottle leaking another story stain onto the abused carpeting.

* * *

Arthur locked himself in their room that night with both cats as his only company and didn’t come out until midafternoon.

Al ended up sleeping on the couch in the den - not the sofa, the evil, fight-causing sofa, but the _couch_ , they were _different_ \- and stayed there for his day of moping, sulking wordlessly while Ludwig kept watch over him and read one of his engineering textbooks.

Around the time that the sun was slanting in through the front windows over the lingering mess of the party last night scattered over the floor, Arthur came down the creaky stairs as quietly as he could manage, heralded by meowing, hungry cats, poking his head around the door tentatively. Al curled back into the couch cushions as far as he could go, shoving his fingers into his mouth and looking at Ludwig with wide, pleading eyes. Ludwig had looked up at the sudden appearance at the stairs, but Arthur did his best impression of a selectively blind, startled rabbit and darted towards the fridge on the other side of the den/kitchen front of their house. As Arthur pulled out sandwich material and Al held his breath in an unhealthy manner, Ludwig rolled his eyes and slid open his phone, starting a group text message with the other half of the house.

To: Kiku, Ivan, Francis  
The robin has left the nest.

From: Ivan  
I’ll get the legs you get the arms

From: Kiku  
Down in a moment

From: Francis  
Don’t let him fly away

As the indicative noises sounded overhead, Ludwig stood while Arthur’s back was turned as he slapped a sandwich together at the far counter, using Al’s self-inflicted vow of silence and face-down sprawl to his advantage as he sat on his back, opening his book again and ignoring the small noises of protest from below. When Al started squirming, he laid his 500-page hardback textbook on his head.

Francis was the first to tumble down the stairs, startling Arthur with a mouthful of ham and cheese. “Ah, the lovely rose has awakened!” he cried out with his arms flung wide, moving towards him. Arthur tried to curse at him and duck out of his way, but his words were garbled and his movements were too slow. Francis caught him in a headlock, swiping his sandwich as well and taking a bite as Arthur struggled and sputtered. He sighed and swallowed with an effort.

“I will never understand how you can fail at such a basic food,” he said with a shake of his head. Arthur beat his way out of his hold and stole his sandwich back just as Ivan and Kiku arrived, Kiku with an unusually determined look on his face Ivan still in his pajamas and a frown.

It wasn’t hard to tell that all of them were frustrated with how Al and Arthur had been behaving lately.

“All right, we have subject number one, where’s number two?” Ivan asked, cracking his knuckles. Ludwig stood and took Al by the collar, yanking him to his feet and ignoring his yell of “Hey, stop that!”, wincing as his book tumbled to the ground. That wasn’t going to be kind to the pages, but there were more important things at hand, such as all of their sanities.

Arthur froze in the middle of the kitchen floor as Ivan went to help Ludwig drag Al across the room. Behind his back, Francis looked to the heavens for guidance.

While it had taken two guys his size or larger to get him into the kitchen, it only took one disappointed look from Kiku before Al ceased and desisted his fighting, embarrassed as he stood meekly in front of him. Kiku beckoned Arthur closer, and Francis shoved him forward until they were facing each other, Kiku in the middle and a loose ring of the other house mates keeping them from running away. Al stared down at his feet while Arthur glared holes into his half-eaten sandwich.

“Now, boys,” Kiku began, looking between both of them. “We don’t really know _what’s_ been happening between you two lately, but it has become _unbearable_ to live in this house with you. So, you’re going to sit right here-” the other three sat them down at the kitchen table a few steps away- “and you’re not getting up until you’ve figured yourselves out.” Al and Arthur sulked and scowled; Ivan slammed his hands on the table, making them jump. He smiled.

“I’ll make it easy for you to understand. Make nice, or _move out_.” He pointed at the other half of the room. “We’ll be over there, making _sure_ you follow through.” They nodded, and the four of them migrated over to the den, talking in low voices and sending pointed glares.

Al and Arthur fiddled, neither knowing where to begin. Arthur ate his sandwich in small bites, not really hungry anymore but feeling obligated to eat.

After a fake throat clear from the other room, they finally looked up at each other and drew breath simultaneously.

“I’m sorry-”

“Look, I-”

They stopped, giggling nervously. Arthur popped the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth and sighed.

Al groaned and put his head on the table. “I dunno, man. I swear to God that I haven’t, like, been hiding gay shit for you for years-”

Arthur snorted. “Likewise.” Al turned his head to be able to see him and wrinkled his nose at him with a teasing grin.

“Hey, you sayin’ I ain’t hot?” Arthur blinked.

“Well, no, but-” Al started laughing, and Arthur kicked him under the table. “Oh shove it.”

“Love you too, bro.” Their faces fell suddenly, and they stared in horror at each other.

“ _Shit._ ”

Al’s face went back to the table, and he pulled on his hair and groaned.

“How did we let this _happen?_ ” he moaned. Arthur sighed, resting his chin on his hand and tracing the fake grain of the table with the other.

“I guess that’s the part that got us.” He looked up at Al, who turned his head just enough for him to see one blue eye. He smiled despite himself. “We didn’t let it happen. It just did.”

Al smiled softly, then put him arm under his head to more comfortably watch Arthur from the table’s perspective. “Yeah, I guess so.” Arthur’s face flushed, which set Al’s face aflame in turn, and they looked away again.

“So now what do we do?” Al asked the table quietly. Arthur shrugged.

“We could ignore it until it goes away?” Al’s turn to snort.

“Because that’ll end _so_ well.”

“Well what do _you_ think we should do, Mr. Know-It-All?”

“We could try it out?”

Even though it was the logical next step, it still caught Arthur off guard, surprising his snap away. “What?”

“I mean, if it’s a phase, it’s a phase, but...” Al shrugged enough to move his whole body and propped his chin on his forearm to look straight forward at the microwave. “It could be fun.”

Arthur flashed to the press of Al over him last night and coughed. “Yes, I suppose it could.” Al laughed and pressed his leg sideways into Arthur’s, who stood abruptly, drawing the attention of the others away from their conversations.

“So, did you reach an agreement?” Ludwig asked over the top of his manhandled book. Al grinned and stood.

“Sure did!”

Francis turned to look over the back of the couch and raised an eyebrow, still petting one of the cats sprawled along the top of the couch. “And?”

Al turned and smiled at Arthur, a question and an invitation in his bitten lip and puppy eyes. “We’re gonna go upstairs and talk about it some more?”

Arthur bit the inside at his cheek against a telling smile of his own, and just gave his blandest nod instead. Francis raised both eyebrows and laughed.

“Should we leave you to the house, then?” Al stuck out his tongue, but Arthur brushed by him, taking his wrist on the way. “Maybe you should,” he said in his boldest tone even as his face gave his nerves away. He didn’t give them time to respond, dragging Al and his silly grin upstairs, who saluted before being whipped around the corner and up the stairs.

When the door slammed shut in the distance, a collective sigh echoed downstairs. “I’m not sure if we just made ourselves better or so, so much worse,” Ludwig said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Francis shrugged.

“Probably both.” He stood and patted his pockets for his keys and wallet, giving one last scratch to the back of the cat’s ears. “I think I’m going out for lunch. Anyone want to come?”

Ivan stood instantly, making a face at the silent ceiling. “I should probably change into actual clothes first, but I’d go through hell before going up there right now.” Kiku just glanced up with his more familiar, impassive expression before standing as well.

“That might be the safest option.”

Ludwig gave one last look at his textbook, then decided his reading could wait until later and followed his housemates out the door, leaving the two new lovebirds to their own devices and the two cats to theirs.


	2. Fire Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation of the chapter before.

They giggled the entire way up the stairs, laughing at their left behind roommates and each other and their sweaty palms pressed together and the world. Arthur tugged Al around the corner and the top of the stairs into their room, and Al accidentally slammed it shut behind them.

The laughter died into stares as they faced each other, alone and new and hand-fast. One of them squeezed.

“So…” Al took a step, just a small one, and Arthur didn’t back away. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, well…” Arthur shuffled his feet and darted his eyes around the room, face red as he looked anywhere but Al’s face. Al took another step, gulped. The electricity they had been trying to ignore sparkled around the room, sending tremors through their muscles. Arthur’s drawn breath shook, and he turned up to Al’s eyes to find them steadily trained on him.

His lips parted, slightly; Al grinned and ducked in to kiss them, pulling him closer with their interlocked fingers and spreading his other hand over Arthur’s back. Arthur gasped and grasped, sinking against him. Step, step, and he fell back on the futon under his lofted bed, the frame giving ominously under their double weight, but neither noticed, lost in the new. Al was heavy, Arthur was pointy, and it was all perfect.

Al crouched over him, knee caught in the bend of the futon, mouth crashed into Arthur’s. Arthur’s hands tangled furiously in his hair, shifting and shifting for a place to stay, tongue pressing up into Al’s. The sudden rush in set fire to their senses, slow burning coal, buried underground, and it poured out of them in gulps and trembles.  

Moments of quick cloth and creak passed; breath. Al pulled away softly, eyes still closed, rubbed his cheek down Arthur’s face on his way to taste his neck. Arthur stuttered and pulled up under him, sliding a few inches to make it easier. Al tucked his head under, face warm from many things as he lipped mildly at Arthur’s neck. They were slowing down, just for a moment. It was just as precious to Arthur, this soft consideration, but now he became aware of the cramped, how he was crushed or falling off.

But he held off, eyes slipping closed as Al’s attentions picked up in intensity. He sighed, squirming to a better spot to give Al more room. Al’s knee slipped; he grunted and sat up slowly, wincing as he pulled the slipped knee from the crevice in the futon. Their eyes connected briefly, and he grinned. Arthur’s hands, which had followed him to rest on his bent legs, itched from the heat.

Al swallowed, grin falling away. “You…” Arthur tilted his head, but he didn’t finish his sentence, instead standing and holding out a hand for Arthur. “C’mon, let’s flatten this out.”

Arthur swatted the hand away and stumbled to his feet on his own. Al chuckled softly, and they each took a side to fight with the futon and change it from couch to small bed. For some reason, though, the simple act made the hairs on Al’s arms stand up, even though he and Arthur weren’t touching. It made this planned, this sudden flare up of emotion and attraction. It felt more intimate than having Arthur’s tongue in his mouth just a few minutes ago.

When they finished, Al gestured grandly for Arthur to go first. Arthur just snorted and shoved him down instead, diagonally to keep the futon from folding unsuspectedly, falling down over him moments later. Al laughed, sunshine in a smile, and bent his knees around him, a cage. Arthur dragged his nose from temple down, taking him in so deeply that Al’s heart hammered long before mouth reached mouth.

The slow appreciation from earlier was back, Arthur’s hands sliding everywhere he had never been allowed to touch - at least, not since this whole… _this_ had kindled. Al returned the favor, big puppy hands sprawling across his back. A few of the fingers looped around Arthur’s shirt hem.

Arthur’s spine shot straight, and he sat back just enough to pull it off as smoothly as he could manage and crash back forcefully, and his skin felt thinner than usual where Al was touching, somehow. He forced his way under Al’s own shirt, but pinned him back down when Al tried to arch to shed it. Al grinned against his mouth, teeth nipping at Arthur’s tongue. Hands clutched at new warm flesh, bumping over the marks of living and growing. It turned savage, blazing hot as Arthur swirled his tongue into Al’s mouth, mouths pried wide as he tried to get the feel of Al’s teeth clacking against his. His tongue brushed against the ridges of Al’s palate; Al shuddered, close to violently, and turned away to break it.

“Whoa.” He heaved a breath - when did he get breathless? - and spread his fingers over Arthur’s bare back. Arthur smiled down at him, soft enough to catch him off guard. He coughed and sat up (this time Arthur let him), signaling as best he could for Arthur to turn over. The soft smile stayed as they carefully flipped around, keeping the futon’s delicate balance. Al knelt in front of him, trailing his hands up his pajamas (he hadn’t changed before coming downstairs for his food break; they were simple flannel with polka dots) to hold his knees. Carefully, deliberately, he spread them, air still between them as he laid forward, a piece at a time, until he was hovering with an inch between them all down. Arthur snarled and yanked him down, locking him in with ankles over the backs of his knees and forcing Al to kiss him. Startled, it took him a moment to respond, but he quickly took Arthur’s hints and dovetailed closer.

Al was in jeans, thick material that chafed his hypersensitive skin; Arthur’s pajama pants draped too loose and too free. _Too free_.

He arched up, heels making Al’s lower body meet his. A strip of _different_ hard nudged Al’s stomach, and he panicked, jumping back and falling on his ass, only barely still on the futon. His sudden movement jerked the futon too much and it snapped back to couch formation, dumping Arthur in his lap with a squeak and making him truly lose his balance and fall head-first onto the dirty carpet.

They groaned, a mess of limbs and sweaty heat, and didn’t move for several long seconds. Arthur pulled himself up first, sitting back on the futon and sorting out the mess of their legs before tugging at Al until he was sitting properly instead of on his head. Al rubbed at the back of his sore head, shaking his hair over his face in the process and smiling sheepishly through his bangs up at Arthur. He had always been unable to scold that face. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Oh, come here, you.” Al clambered up onto the couch-futon as Arthur laid back, rearranging them until they all fit - futon, Al, and Arthur - back to back to chest. The mood was sufficiently shot, but Al scooped him close anyway and buried his face in his hair.

“Told ya this could be fun.” Arthur couldn’t help it; he laughed, bubbles of it, curling in slightly. Al’s breath ghosted over his bared upper body as he laughed with him.

The fire died, just a hum remaining as they drifted off in this new atmosphere.

* * *

Hours later, the other four housemates finally deemed it safe enough to return. They crept in, one by one, but the blessed sound of silence was all that greeted them. They all breathed easier, dissipating to their individual duties for the week ahead.

Francis was the one to take the unspoken chore of checking on the new lovebirds. He pressed his ear to their shared, closed door for a full minute, but when the same silence of the house echoed through the wood, he held his breath and opened it as quietly as he knew how, cracking it just enough for a look.

There, on the futon that anyone who sat on it hated, curled Al and Arthur, the latter shirtless and the both disorganized, but no marks beyond that. Al’s face was invisible behind Arthur’s chaotic hair, but the features Francis could make out of Arthur’s looked content.

With a nod of approval, he backed away, closing the door carefully. Maybe now the rest of them could get some peace.


End file.
